Sweet Devil
by Youkai-ChoGonou
Summary: US/UK - SLASH WARNING - Based off of the increasingly popular Sweet!Devil USUK versions. Arthur's spell backfires, but maybe it doesn't matter. At least, until the consequences surface.
1. All's Well That Ends Well

**APH:**

**Sweet Devil**

**AN: Ok, so I decided to give in and do MY version of Sweet Devil. The actual lyrics of the song almost have nothing to do with the fic. So, this fic CONTAINS HOMOSEXUAL CONTENT. That is TWO MEN LOVING EACHOTHER. If you do not like the pairing USUK, then I suggest you don't read. There is also a very strong possibility that this will become… err… somewhat graphic in later chapters, hence the Mature rating. But I promise nothing because I get rather shy in that regard. Anyway, those of you who actually WANT to read it, Enjoy! OwO **

**Also, pardon Scotland's thick accent in the beginning.  
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**O**

**OoO**

**OoOoO**

**OoOoOoO**

**This Is A Slash Fiction**

**You Have Been Warned**

**OoOoOoO**

**OoOoO**

**OoO**

**O**

"Whi' th' hell dae ye need a lock ay Kelpie's mane fer?" The Scotsman shouted at his younger brother who had so rudely intruded his house demanding supplies. The pair did everything in their power to avoid eachother, so it was nearly unheard of for one to invade the other's house. Well, it really didn't matter how often it happened, seeing as it was happening now. Not only that, but the little Englishman was outright _demanding_ a mystical ingredient that was only ever used in some of the oldest of ancient spells. The ingredient itself was rather perilous to collect unless you had a Loch Ness monster at your disposal who had no qualms snatching up a Kelpie and keeping it still for you to clip off a strand of soggy, slimy hair.

"I'll pay you." Arthur had squared off his shoulders, not to be intimidated by his older and brasher brother. The blonde dreaded visiting his brother. It was bad enough he was present during World Conferences. To say they didn't get along well was like saying Black Beard had been a disrespectable chap.

"Ah dinnae wan' yer money." The Scot shot dryly, walking deeper into his sitting room. He pushed a bookshelf aside to access the hidden store room behind it. He shuffled through a few jars and vials until he found what he was looking for. The redhead turned around and held out a vial. Within the vial was a green hued chunk of slimy hair suspended in water. When the Englishman reached out to take it, Maverick snatched it out of his reach. "Noo, whi' dae ye wan' i' fer?"

Arthur's green eyes blazed angrily when the vial was pulled away before he could even lay a finger on it. He held his anger in with a rigid stance and tightened fists. Exhaling a tense sigh, he spoke, "A spell."

"Nae, really?" The redhead feigned surprise then swatted his brother upside the head. "Whi' spell, ye feckin' bampo'!"

This seemed to test Arthur's patience to its limits, and yet he still remained calm. For the most part. His jaw was clenched and his eyes burned with hatred. It was hard to tell if the flush on his cheeks was from anger or embarrassment. Perhaps both. "I want…" he gritted out. "to alter my feelings towards someone."

The Scot's thick brows shot up in surprise. This surprise gave Arthur the chance to snatch the vial away from the taller country. However, before the smaller Brit could get too far, the Scot spoke up, "Ye ken, those spells can be pure dangerous. If ye dinnae truly mean whi' ye wan' 'em tae dae, they can ha'e dire effec's."

"You think I don't know that?" England shot back defensively and turned away from his brother. "As if you really care what happens to me! Bugger off!" He stormed out the door, leaving Scotland still staring in mild surprise.

**OoOoOoO**

England was dressed in his robes, standing on runes pattered in the floor surrounded by candles. In the center of the alchemic circle was the powdered mixture in a small mortar. It'd all been ground together with the pestle that was lying off to the side. He dropped a strand of his own hair into the powder and took a deep breath. Opening the spellbook to the dog-eared page, he began reading the spell aloud. Magic picked up and glittered around the circle. The runes all glowed and took to the air, spinning around the centre.

Arthur closed his eyes tight. All he could ever see was Alfred. His heart panged every time the stupid American walked into the room or when he heard his voice or someone mentioned his name. The more time that passed, the stronger that heartache seemed to grow. He hated it. Hated the feeling, hated how, when his mind would drift, he'd find himself thinking about the stupid American. The American that left him. How had this turned into an obsession? Hell, when had it even turned into a crush? No, he needed to rid these useless emotions so he could move on.

The final words of the spell were out and he steeled himself to be freed of this wretched _curse_ cast on him by the blue eyed blonde. But as he opened his eyes and looked up, his cellar door opened and Alfred stepped into the room, blinking dumbly at the scene before him. Oh… there was that feeling again. Arthur blushed as his heart skipped a beat and dared to even flutter. Well, _that_ feeling wasn't so bad… Almost made him feel like he was drifting on a cloud. What had he done? Did he _really_ want to remove these feelings?

"Arty…?" Alfred asked, but those blue eyes widened when the rush of magic speared towards Arthur's chest. "Arthur!" Alfred dashed forward in a desperate attempt to save England from whatever painful death that spear of magic had in store for him. He threw his arms out, lunging at Arthur in an awkward tackle trying to knock him out of the way. Instead, the spear of magic shot through both countries like an arrow, leaving them unconscious in a heap on the floor.

And that was when their world changed.

**OoOoOoO**

"Idiot! What the hell was that thing anyway? It could've killed you! I don't know what I would've done if it'd…" Alfred looked down at his hands. Judging by the clock, they estimated they'd been out for a good two hours. Now, Alfred was sitting on the couch and Arthur was making tea for both of them. "If you felt that way, you should'a said something, dumbass." The blonde pouted. "Not done something stupid like that."

"I said I was sorry." Arthur walked out into the sitting room and set the trey down on the table, urging Alfred to take one of the cups. "Extra sugar and honey, just how you like it. …how you _used_ to like it."

Alfred ignored the tea and looked up sternly. Those innocent, naïve blue eyes were hard and serious. It was an expression the young nation rarely ever wore. "Did it work?" When Arthur just stared blankly at him, he clarified. "Your dumb spell. Did it work?"

"Alfred…" Arthur sat down next to him and sipped his tea before continuing. "Does it matter?"

"Yes. It matters to me." That look still hardened those ocean blue eyes. Arthur thought that he even detected hidden pain behind them. Or was he just being hopeful?

"If you _must_ know, no. It didn't work." But as soon as those words left his mouth, eyes closed, ready to take another sip of tea, there was a set of warm lips against his. Arthur's eyes popped open in surprise to find Alfred kissing him. His heart warmed his entire body. A tingling sense of near euphoria at just the simple kiss. No, it wasn't so simple. It was the knowing that Alfred returned his feelings. Either that, or this was a very bad joke. He was almost embarrassed to feel that warming sensation pooling between his thighs. Had it really been that long since he'd been with someone that his body would react so instantly to such a basic sign of affection? No wait. That wasn't the right sort of warming… Suddenly it was scalding! Too hot! What the blazes—?

Arthur had to shove Alfred back with a yelp of pain as the hot tea soaked into his pants and burned his skin. In the flustered moment of shock, he'd forgotten he was even holding the cup. Alfred quickly spotted what was ailing the Englishman and snatched up the nearest cloth trying to blot the spreading liquid from Arthur's pants before it could cause any more damage. This, however, was rather awkward. Something he didn't realize until his hands were already pressed firmly into Arthur's lap. He watched the blonde's cheeks burn just as red as he was sure his own were.

"Alfred! S-stop, you git!"

**OoOoOoO**

"Still a klutz and a fool!" Arthur chastised as he came down the stairs in a fresh change of clothing. Alfred couldn't help but notice his cheeks were still a little flushed.

"Hey, I said I was sorry. I just—" Arthur held up a hand to silence him.

"It will be a most memorable first kiss, won't it?" Arthur dared a very small amused smirk that seemed to relax Alfred instantly. The little American, who had been sitting up tense in his seat, sunk back into the cushions and smiled goofily. "Now, that will certainly be enough of that. It is getting late. If you don't have prior arrangements, you're welcome to stay here for the night." Arthur's cheeks flushed and he quickly added, "Your old room is still furnished."

Alfred grinned and whipped out his cell phone. He hit the speed dial and waited for the other end to answer. "Yeah, this is Alfred F. Jones. I reserved a room earlier today." There was a pause as Alfred listened to the other end. "Uh-huh. That's me. Yeah, I wanna cancel my reservation. Sorry, dude." There was another pause and Alfred huffed. "Yeah, yeah. I know you don't give refunds. Just free up the room, 's all I'm sayin'." Again, Alfred listened to the other man on the line talk. "Thanks dude." And ended the call.

England watched almost adoringly as America cancelled his reservations just for him. That spread another surge of warmth through his heart. He was almost glad he'd attempted that spell. If he hadn't, it was very likely he never would have learned that Alfred returned his affections. It still didn't make much sense to him, and seemed almost surreal, but right now, he was happy to live in this little dream world. If it was a dream, maybe he could just stay here forever and never wake up.

"Uh, hey, Arty…?" Alfred began, drawing Arthur from his thoughts. The green eyed Brit looked up and blinked. "So… if that spell thing didn't do what it was supposed to do, and I'm not sayin' I'm buying into your whole magic stuff, but… well… what _did_ it do?"

Oh, and this was a very good question. Because the spell seemed to act like it did something. But there were so many unaccountable variables. Alfred interfering. His doubt just before the spell was finalized. The fact that it struck both himself and Alfred. The spell was one of ancient magic. It had almost certainly done _something_. Older magics of that nature never did nothing. That was one thing about ancient spells. They were reliable in that they would always do something, even if it wasn't what was meant to be done.

"I can honestly say, I haven't a clue." Arthur admitted.

Alfred seemed to contemplate that for only a brief moment before his face contorted in pain and he whined. "I'm _starving_. C'mon, I'll take you out to eat!"

"As if you have a card on you that we take here." Arthur smirked, standing up from the couch and tugged his coat from the rack. "Besides, the gentleman always buys dinner for his date." He escorted Alfred out the door.

**OoOoOoO**

Alfred and Arthur crashed through the door after their ride home from dinner. The American was dominating the Englishman in a powerful kiss as the pair groped and clung to eachother. Alfred barely got the door kicked closed as he shoved Arthur down to the sofa, but the slightly smaller male was fighting him a bit. It wasn't until he tasted blood that he pulled away. Alfred touched his tongue to a fang in his own mouth, brows knitting together. As he looked down at Arthur, the blonde was looking up almost horrified with a stream of blood trailing down his nicked lip. The small growl in the back of his own throat shocked even himself, but he couldn't resist the uncontrollable urge to suck up that spilled blood until Arthur pushed him away.

"Alfred, your hair… and you've fangs." England was breathless and trying desperately to compose himself.

"Really? We're gonna discuss my _hair_ at a time like this? Shut up and enjoy this, Angel." Alfred growled, leaning forward again to continue where he'd left off, but to his shock, England had pulled a wand and small pouch from his vest pocket. The blonde kicked America back and threw the pouch's contents at the now black haired American. He pointed the star-tipped wand in his direction.

"Expel, demon!"

Alfred's body pulsed before a figure was torn from his own form, leaving the blonde standing there, dazed and confused. The blonde-again Alfred dropped to his hands and knees panting as another figure floated inches off the ground. The creature in the air resembled Alfred identically save for the hair black as night, fangs, horns, a pointed tail, and bat-like demonic wings. His wardrobe was colored almost inverted of Alfred's. Both blondes were staring at this demonic image of America in a mixture of awe and confusion.

**TBC…**


	2. I Have To Be Your Only One

**Chapter Two**

**AN: I didn't mean to mislead anyone. In fact, there will be no appearance of the Britannia Angel, my apologies. xD HOWEVER, I _will_ state that, for the sake of my fic, their demon personalities are the opposite of their natural personalities. Take that spoiler as you will. But, when he called Arthur, 'Angel' it was merely intended to be a pet name derived from the prefix 'Anglo' in Anglo-Saxon. Now, this chapter gets a little… Not quite 'sexual' but there are brief racy moments. **

The demon hovered mere feet from Alfred in the silent room. Hair the color of the blackest of inks. Eyes fitted with thin slitted pupils. Bat-like wings flapping lazily behind him with a long devil's tail that swished about the air as if it had a mind of its own. Dark ram's horns were nestled tightly against his skull, almost obscured by his hair, it was all almost too much for either of the other two occupants in the room.

There was a long, drawn out silence in which everyone just seemed to stare. The longer it stretched, the more agitated the floating demon seemed to become. His tail twitched progressively faster behind him as his expression slowly darkened.

"Don't look so shocked. _You_ created me!" The inverted Alfred pointed at Arthur. "Just like you created _him_!" His hand snapped out, grabbing the front of Arthur's vest, but as he jerked the fabric forward, another inverted figure surged from Arthur's body. This being resembled the Brit with fangs, horns, wings, a tail, and blazing red hair.

"What the bloody hell was that for? The bloody git didn't even know I was there! I was enjoying that!" The new redheaded Arthur stabbed a finger in Alfred's direction, tail lashing from side to side like an angry cat.

The black haired Alfred glared disdainfully at the redheaded Arthur. "You'd rather I'd left you to live through the eyes of someone else? Pathetic."

"What… _are_ you two? How did I create you?" Arthur asked, baffled, as he moved across the room to help Alfred to his feet.

"He really doesn't know? God, he's dumber than you." He cast a glance indicating the real Alfred. "You cast a spell to banish your lust for Alfred. But tried to stop the spell after you cast it. You were warned what'd happen if your heart wasn't absolutely geared in one direction. Instead of casting out your lust, you amplified it into a tangible being. In other words, I'm Alfred's darkest desires for you. And he," He jerked a thumb towards the redhead. "is your darkest desires for Alfred. In pure demon form."

Before Arthur could reach Alfred, the redheaded demon was at the little blonde's side, coddling him and trying to help him up. "You didn't have to be so violent when you left poor Alfred's body, you know." The demon hissed, steadying the exhausted blonde.

The demon rolled his eyes. "You're a pathetic excuse for a demon." The demon Alfred's wings seemed to flutter, but they also didn't seem to be moving near fast enough to be keeping him airborne.

Oh, if there was _ever_ a time Arthur _needed_ a cup of tea, it was now. Come on, lad! You're English! Keep calm and carry on and all that nonsense. He composed himself and went to the kitchen.

**OoOoOoO**

In the next several days, Arthur spent nearly all of his free time researching some kind of counter spell but each attempt failed. He'd also been observing the behavior of the two demons. If anything, the Alfred was more tenacious, more obnoxious, much more violent, and lacking that naïve quality that endeared Arthur towards the real Alfred. His own counterpart, on the other hand seemed… docile. Nothing like a demon at all. He was almost submissive unless you set him off. Sweet and coddling towards the real Alfred. He was never so grateful to see Alfred rejecting the advances made by the little redheaded demon. It seemed the Alfred counterpart was ever drawn to the real Arthur and the Arthur counterpart was drawn to the real Alfred. So much so that they resented their real counterparts for having the affections of their targets.

Neither Alfred nor Arthur left the safety of Arthur's house since the incident fearing what reactions the public would have towards the pair of floating demons. Reasonably, they _could_ just pretend like they had no clue what the people were talking about if they pointed and shrieked, but he had a feeling if the masses all saw the same thing it would be difficult to cover. So when the World Conference rolled around, Arthur was at a loss. It wasn't exactly something they could just call in sick for. Especially since it was being held in the United Kingdom.

"Arty, I'm sick." Alfred's voice tore him out of his thoughts and pulled his gaze from the book to look up at the blonde holding a thermometer with his usual redheaded shadow following behind him.

"Show me." Arthur huffed and held out a hand for the thermometer. Alfred handed it over and Arthur twisted it around in the light until the mercury reflected and he was able to read the gauge. Arthur put the thermometer down in his book to mark the page and shut it, standing from his seat, he swatted Alfred upside the head. "Nice try, you bloody git! Did you forget this is a Celsius thermometer? Ninety-nine degrees Celsius is roughly two-hundred and ten degrees of your Fahrenheit! Off to bed with you! We've an early morning."

Oh, that was so not fair! Stupid Celsius being different. Really, he should have known that having spent some time in this house growing up. Probably using this very same thermometer. If it wasn't broken, why replace it? At least, that's how Arthur thought. Didn't matter that there were more advanced and quicker methods now. That was a man who didn't really care for change.

The blonde American brushed past the redheaded devil following him and headed upstairs to his old bedroom where he'd been crashing for the past few nights. This had been a stressful past few days. He was doing his best to ignore the advances of the little devil and just flat out ignore the scathing things his counterpart would say to him. From what the pair of devils would say to eachother, he'd sort of figured out that they can't kill their counterparts. Which was a relief. What worried him was that they'd hinted towards somehow becoming the counterpart. Since hearing this piece of information, he'd been very carefully listening to their conversations for a better understanding of what this meant.

Alfred washed up, with his redheaded shadow still trailing him, and got ready for bed, slipping into sleep rather easily. Arthur wasn't far behind, seeking the comfort of his own bed, doing what he could to pretend the little black haired American devil wasn't following him around.

**OoOoOoO**

"You're pathetic."

The voice startled the redheaded devil who had been straddling the sleeping American. "Shut up!" He hissed back, trying not to wake said American. He leaned forward, kissing up the sleeping blonde's neck.

"You know he's not dreaming about you." The dark haired American counterpart informed dryly.

"Shut up!" He hissed again, stroking Alfred's hair out of his face. He rolled his body against Alfred's, drawing a small groan from the sleeping country. "He's so lovely when he's asleep. So peaceful."

"So you're gonna give him a wet dream about Arthur because you think he's cute? That won't get you anywhere." The Dark Alfred grabbed the other devil by the base of a wing and jerked him off the sleeping blonde, tossing him into the air. The redhead caught flight and kept himself from hitting the wall, glaring at the black haired devil.

"What are you doing?" He yelped when the American counterpart tried to wrap his hands around Alfred's throat, only to fall right through him.

"Dammit!"

The little redheaded devil rushed to Alfred's side, clinging to him protectively. "Leave him alone!"

"Fine." The devil grumbled and floated towards the door before whirling around and grinning. "I can't touch him, but I can touch my little Angel." He purred deviously and left the room. Arthur's counterpart heard the door lock from the outside, but it wasn't any of his business as long as the devil wasn't hurting his Alfred.

**OoOoOoO**

In Arthur's bedroom, the blonde slept silently on his side until a hand rested on his shoulder. He snatched the wrist and aimed an old silver pistol under the blonde's chin. When Arthur's eyes registered, he gasped and pulled the antique gun away, sliding it back under his pillow.

"A-Alfred! What are you—?"

"Shh. Those freaking devils are off doing something and I wanted to talk to you in private." The blonde sat down on the edge of Arthur's bed. "Arty, I…" He looked away, blushing for a moment.

"Alfred… you should be in bed." Arthur insisted, also looking away with the barest hint of a blush on his cheeks until a warm hand caught his chin and those lips were pressed against his again. It took Arthur a moment before he responded to them, kissing Alfred back. The younger blonde leaned over him on the bed, one arm braced on the other side of Arthur as he crawled over him until a hand on his chest pushed them apart enough to speak.

"Alfred, we really shouldn't… I mean, this is too early. We just…"

"We _just_? We've had the hots for eachother for how long now?" Alfred argued, brushing his lips over Arthur's gently.

"Yes, well… I don't want to rush any of this." Those green eyes flickered with something. Sorrow maybe? He'd seen rushed relationships go south, it would seem.

The blue eyed blonde leaned forward, pressing another kiss to Arthur's lips. The English blonde didn't seem to hold up his protests very well under the affections. A cool hand ran under Arthur's shirt, caressing his chest before travelling downward to the waistband of his pants. The anticipation sent a little wave through Arthur's body and then those fingers dipped just ever so slightly beneath the elastic and—

There was a crash from the other room followed by hammering and shouting. Arthur's eyes snapped open and he looked up at the creature kissing him. The blonde hair bled black as the man pulled away with a growl. Wings sprouting from his back along with the rest of his demonic features.

"You!" Arthur accused, pointing a finger at the demon and shoving him completely off his bed.

"I'm gonna kill him!" The demon growled, floating out of the room and down the hall with Arthur scurrying worriedly after.

**OoOoOoO**

The morning rolled around slowly as the pair failed to sleep after the antics of the devils during the night. After Alfred wound up locked in his room, he took to the couch where he woke not too long after with a pair of warm hands down his pants. It was then that he decided he just wouldn't sleep. That seemed the only way to keep the little redheaded demon's hands out of his pants. Arthur had joined him not too long after.

They got ready for the meeting and mapped out a way to navigate around the alleyways and least populated areas through London to avoid human interaction when the pair of demons refused to stay home. With their coats pulled on, the pair were ready to disembark when there was a knock at the door. Both males jumped but Arthur moved to answer it.

"Ye dinnae wri'e, ye dinnae call…" The Scot greeted with a fox-like grin. "Hoo'd yer spell go?" He pushed past England to peek into the room, seeing Alfred standing there like a kid with his hand in the cookie jar. The Scot hummed approvingly and stepped back out. "Sae, th' kid made i' in time, aye?"

Arthur's brain stalled. For several reasons. The first being that Scotland didn't seem to even pay any notice to the pair of devils floating in the room behind him, nor did he seemed surprised to see Alfred. As a matter of fact, he seemed to have been expecting the American.

"You didn't…" Come to think of it, he never asked Alfred why he'd been there in the first place or how he'd managed to arrive exactly on time. Oh, how had he been so stupid? "This was a set-up. You sent him here to play the part. What kind of sick joke are you playing at, Maverick?"

"What?" and "Oi!" resounded in surround sound from the American and Scot respectively.

"Yer wrang. I's naethin' li'e 'a'!" Scotland protested, but England held up a hand, not wanting to hear any of it.

"He's right, Arty. Scotty left a message on my cell saying you were gonna do something stupid if I didn't save you." Alfred insisted, coming up behind Arthur and putting a hand on his shoulder only to have it shrugged off.

"Get out. Both of you."

**OoOoOoO**

"Vell… as long as ve're mostly all here, ve should start." It was Germany heading the meeting again. Being in England, it should have been England leading, but he was the only nation not to show. It was unusual for the host of the location not to show up for the meeting, and of all people, England, but there was always a first for everything. He would have suggested one of the other nations within the UK head the meeting but… no one could really understand anything any of them said save for Wales who… never seemed to be one to say much.

"Zis just isn't like Angleterre. I 'ope 'e isn't ill. Per'aps I should pay 'im a visit, non?" The Frenchman crooned from his seat to no one in particular. However, it did earn him a few eye-rolls.

"Maybe he's here and no one can see him? It happens…" Came a voice from an empty seat in almost a whisper that no one seemed to notice. It made the hair on the back of France's neck prickle, but he paid it no mind.

The seat next to Alfred was empty and it bothered him. The demon sank into it and slipped a hand over Alfred's shoulder. The blonde couldn't even find the bother to shrug it off. "I can be your Arthur." The demon spoke and before Alfred could even think to protest, that red hair bled blonde. Horns vanished, wings vanished, tail vanished, and the slitted pupils were now round. "For you." The devil leaned over and kissed the corner of Alfred's mouth tenderly.

"Jou ok, America?" It was Spain. He'd noticed the odd expression on Alfred's face and the way he sort of jumped for no reason as if trying to avoid something that wasn't there.

"Huh? Uh, yeah. Just, uh… nothin'." Alfred muttered and tried to smile. Ok, so no one could see the devils but the two of them. That was a bit of a relief. But how did you live your life with an imaginary friend that no one could—oh… Wow, now he felt like he owed Arthur yet another apology now that he was part of the whole, seeing things that weren't there group.

The meeting was absolute torture. With the wannabe Arthur sitting next to him flirting and touching. Trying desperately to win his affections. He hated to admit it, but this guy was just… Too sweet. He missed bickering with Arthur. It just wasn't the same. As soon as the meeting was over, he stood with the crowd of countries, heading for the door in an almost drone-like state until something happened. His body. For a moment, it felt like he'd been a marionette with its strings cut. He nearly hit the ground, catching himself on his hands and knees. His arms were semi-transparent. This was exactly what had happened in the bedroom the night before!

"Ah… it's happening again." Alfred murmured, feeling lightheaded.

"N-no! We have to get back!" The little devil panicked, tugging on Alfred's arm.

"As if. I'm going home." Alfred replied under his breath, but was hit by another dizzy spell and the hands on his upper arm trying to drag him seemed to slip right through him. "What the hell?"

"You'll disappear! For good!"

"What?" This was something Alfred couldn't fathom. He was the United States of America! The current superpower in the world! He couldn't just disappear without a good valid reason.

"For one of us to become real, our desire has to be fulfilled! We _need_ to stop them!" The little devil's hair faded back to red as his demonic features became visible again in his moment of panic.

Alfred quickly stood, finally giving into the devil's insisting tugs and started running with the frantic redhead until that feeling hit him once more. His entire body just went slack and he hit the ground, fading out slowly. In the back of his mind, he heard that voice calling his name and insisting he get up. It was shouting at him, but he just couldn't move. It seemed to be getting farther and farther away. Images of Arthur flooded his dimming mind. Dammit, he loved that idiot…

**TBC…**

**AN: I hope everyone is still enjoying this Fic. I expect about two more chapters if I don't get carried away. xD  
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	3. Goodbye To Myself

**Chapter Three**

**AN: This chapter gets a little angsty and somewhat sexual right from the get-go. I apologize for the EXTREMELY late update. I've been quite busy, but in fact, I had this chapter already done and thought I'd uploaded it… Apparently I was mistaken. **

Arthur's eyes closed as those cool hands worked over his bare chest. Their bodies intertwined in the most intimate way. Arthur was hurt. His heart ached as betrayal sunk into it and tore him apart from the inside. Alfred and his brother had toyed with his feelings and he hated both of them for it. But there was a part of him that just couldn't hate Alfred, even after everything. It was such a painful feeling to hate him and feel guilt for hating him. So when the dark haired equivalent offered to let him drown his sorrows, he hadn't even hesitated. It only took a few shots of whisky to get his clothes off and from there…

Arthur moaned, arching his back, malleable under the dark haired devil's hands. The man was whispering sweet nothings into his ears and kissing him chastely, but that didn't matter to him. Not right now. The alcohol had done a wonderful job of drowning his sorrows and if he closed his eyes, he could imagine this was Alfred over him. Not that he'd have Alfred over him. Absolutely not. The blonde would most certainly be under him. Without a doubt. Oh, but why was he thinking about that traitorous bastard anyway? At least this version of Alfred loved him with all of his heart.

The Brit wrapped his arms around the demon's shoulders and kissed him deep and a little sloppy. Normally he'd be absolutely precise, but the whisky… "I fuckin' love you, man…" He slurred and let his head drop back to the couch. "Better 'an 'at blood Yank! What was his name again? Oh, fuck i'. I dun care."

Were he more aware when the two both reached completion, he would have noticed the way the American counterpart's body pulsed and seemed more tangible somehow. His demonic features began to dissolve into the air like blowing on a dandelion bloom. His hair remained black, but for all intensive purposes, the man appeared human. He carefully cleaned them up and pulled the Brit into his arms, cuddling him to sleep.

**OoOoOoO**

"Oi!" Scotland shook the blonde, still cradling his own bleeding hand. "Oi! Wake up, ye bleedin' Yank!" He shouted. Bloodmagic was a dangerous form of magic but not having his wand or other magical items with him, anchoring the kid to the living world before he vanished completely required quick thinking. "Alfred!"

Clear blue eyes flickered open to look up into the green eyes of a pair of redheads. Two of them? Oh God, what next—wait a minute, one of those redheads was Scotland. Ok, not _as_ bad, but still… Wait, wasn't he supposed to be dead or something? "Huh…?" Alfred muttered, trying to sit up. His head was spinning.

"Ye didnae think Ah'd le' ye fade, did ye?" Maverick half smirked and looked up at the devil. "Guid thing yer shadow was makin' sae much noise. Ah'm Ar'ur's aulder bro'er. Ah've go' th' gift ay sigh' tae. Ah was jes' gonnae wai' fer ye tae tell me abi' 'em afair Ah said somethin'."

Alfred stared. "What?" Ok, it didn't matter how long he'd known the Scot. He _still_ couldn't understand half of what he said.

"Le's ge' ye up." Maverick hefted Alfred to his feet and pulled the glove off of his cut hand. "Go stop me bro'er frae makin' mair mistakes. Ah'll look fer a coun'er spell."

"W-what? Counter spell? But…" The little devil protested.

"Ye love 'im?" He nodded to Alfred.

"Well, yes. Of course I do! Are you daft?"

"If ye love 'im, ye'll le' 'im be with th' one he loves." This effectively silenced the floating demon's further protests. For some reason, this made sense to him and he wasn't sure why. "Ye'll aways live in me bro'er's hear'." Scotland reassured the demon. Those bright green eyes flickered back to Alfred. "Go." And the blonde nodded, running down the street.

As the pair disappeared around a corner, the Scot sighed and leaned against the wall, sliding down it to the ground. It'd been far too long since he'd cast such a spell. It didn't come without its side effects either. Because one couldn't prevent death. Death was an inevitability. But he could give the kid the same chance at life that the devils had. It was less of a life-saving spell and more of a circumstance reversal spell. When Alfred started fading, he had just enough life left for Maverick to flip their situations, giving the devil what he wanted; a physical body. Doing this stopped the process of Alfred's death, but in return… Well, Alfred would find out soon enough.

**OoOoOoO**

Green eyes cracked open to the mild glow of sunlight. It cast an orange hue to the room through the window. Oh, his head was spinning and hammering and screaming all at the same time. But his body felt oddly satisfied. Why was that? Then his gaze landed on the dark headed male curled up against his side. Oh… bollox. Yes, he remembered now. Alfred had lied to him and he'd sought the next best thing.

Something caught his eye, just past the sleeping devil-turned-human. The light was catching a reflective surface. Arthur lifted his head and focused on Alfred's cell phone. In his haste to kick the boy out, he'd made him leave all of his things. Well, he could return them later. But… something nagged at him. The small part of him that wanted Alfred to be telling the truth. The part of him that was hopeful still that the blonde really did share his feelings. He'd said Maverick left him a message…

Silently and carefully, Arthur slipped away from the nude devil and out of the bed. He moved around to the other side and picked up that phone. He stared at it for several drawn out minutes, afraid to check but knowing he had to. After a deep breath, he held down the one key until it began dialing his voicemail.

"_You have no new messages. Last skipped message: "Oi! Ye bloody Yank! Ge' yer feckin' arse tae me bro'er's place an' save him frae daein' somethin' he'll regre'!" End of Messages. To delete this message—"_ Arthur didn't let her finish as he hit the end button. His heart was pounding in his chest. Alfred… he'd been telling the truth. He'd thrown away the only chance he'd had at the little American. It was surely too late to apologize. The blonde was probably already on his way back to the United States and he had this… _thing_ in his bed. This… surprisingly human-looking thing…

Said human-looking thing had its eyes opened, looking lovingly at England. "Mornin' Angel."

"Don't." England immediately replied, holding his head as he set America's phone down. "This was a mistake."

"But a damn good one, ya gotta admit." The cheeky American purred as he propped his head up on his palm with his elbow sinking into the pillow. His blue eyes dropped to the cell phone in Arthur's hands. The man was nearly cradling it to his chest protectively. "He's gone."

"Yes, I suppose he is." Arthur looked out the window, setting the device down on the nightstand. The sun was setting. He was surely on his flight home.

"No, I mean he's gone. Erased. I'm the United States now." Cold blue eyes watched England's entire body tense as those words sunk in slowly. Like a poison flooding England's mind, paralyzing his body and stopping his heart. Unfortunately, his heart began beating again and he was able to turn around.

"What did you say?" The words were full of knowing and fear. He'd understood the meaning perfectly, but he was in denial about it. Refusing to believe it.

"When we had sex, you brought me to life. And there can only be one United States of America. When I came to be, he vanished. Like when a country is absorbed by another. Or when a country splits. The original is destroyed and replaced. Fortunately, I have all of America's memories and his appearance." The black-haired man pushed the covers away and stood up, advancing on Arthur. He pulled the shorter nation against him and held him close.

Arthur couldn't move. That paralyzing fear and guilt was seeping throughout his body. This was all his fault. All this time, he'd been casting threats around about how much he wanted rid of Alfred, but he never meant them. Now, knowing he was the cause of America's virtual death…

"Don't worry, Angel." This new Alfred kissed his forehead so tenderly. "I'll fill the void he left better than he ever could."

"You could never begin to replace Alfred F. Jones." England's words were sharp and struck home like arrows from a master marksman's bow. "His people will never accept you. The other nations will never accept you. _I_ will never accept you."

The new Alfred's features darkened as Arthur pushed away from him. He wouldn't have this. England was his now and he wouldn't let old memories of his wretched counterpart taint his lover's mind.

**OoOoOoO**

It was getting dark and try as he might, he couldn't flag down a cab. The trolley had already left and he was too far from England's house to walk. The little redheaded devil kept trying to talk to him but he just didn't want to listen. Why wasn't anyone stopping for him? Didn't they know he was the United States of America and he was in a damn hurry? Out of sheer desperation he ran out in front of a slowing cab.

"Hey! I need a ride, dammit!" But the cab didn't stop. "S-stop! Hey! Don't you see—!" Just as the words were leaving his mouth, he braced to be hit… when nothing happened he opened his eyes again to see the last of the trunk passing through his body as the car kept going. "What the hell?"

"I—I tried to tell you!" The little devil spluttered, running up to the American and clinging around his waist. "You're—"

"I'm a ghost?" Alfred yelped, jumping away from the little devil and flailing.

"No… You're a devil. No one but your counterpart and those with supernatural sight like England can see you."

"Then how the hell am I supposed to get back? And how come you can float and I can't? That'd make this easy! I could just float back to his house." The blonde ran his hands through his hair to check for horns but found none. Nope. He was still normal human Alfred. Normal human Alfred that no one could see and couldn't float… "Oh my God! I'm my brother!" The blonde concluded.

**TBC…**


End file.
